Page 36 of Scarred (Russian Sinners 2)

Well, that said a lot about Nikolai, didn’t it? Instead of punishment, he showed him compassion. Damn, I liked him even more with this little admission from Andrey. My heart beat just a tad bit too fast each time Nikolai crossed my mind or someone mentioned him. It was quite disturbing, in a delicious way.

“Is your mother better now?” I asked him.

“She died last year.” There was sadness in his voice. I looked at him, really looked at him for the first time, and noted he was really good looking. Although to some extent scary as shit. He had tattoos on his neck and was really big but my sixth sense was telling me he was a good man underneath that big, rough, handsome body. I had learned over the course of my life to trust my sixth sense. It was what warned me against Malcome Schmidt and warned Anastasia’s family about him.

Andrey continued, “She had cancer and it wasn’t curable. But thanks to Nikolai, the last years of her life were comfortable, instead of spent in pain.”

I nodded in understanding. That was all I wanted for my mother. To spend the rest of her life comfortable and find enjoyment, not suffering under my father’s cruelty. She suffered enough and had been through enough. I had to wonder whether my father ever loved her. I didn’t think so. I couldn’t imagine anyone who ever loved you to be capable of such cruelty. I believed he was too selfish to love or care about anyone but himself. Mother was his ticket into the world she was born into.

My father was born to a hardworking, poor Irish immigrant family. He was the first generation born in the United States. But instead of being proud of it, he hid it like it was a disease. He didn’t want people to know what circle he came from. My mother was from the social circle he craved to be part of, so he used her as his golden ticket. I would never understand how she could have loved him so much that she was blind to his cruel ambition.

In my entire life, I had seen my grandparents from Dad’s side only once. But that one visit was a memorable one. Both of my grandparents gushed over Oliver and me. My dad wasn’t around so it was only Mom, my brother, and me. I was about seven and loved every minute of the visit. My grandmother baked some cakes and bread while we were there. The simplicity of that day made me crave it for many months after.

But I never saw them again. That evening Dad found out where we were and forbade my mother from going there ever again. They died when I was in high school, a week within each other. My dad didn’t go to his own parent’s funeral, and in turn, we weren’t even allowed to go either.

The back of my neck prickled, as if someone was watching me, pulling me back to the present. I turned my head around to check my surroundings. Although Andrey was here with us along with two other men, I still kept my caution. I would never forgive myself if Tasha got into danger because of me.

“What’s the matter?” Andrey noticed me looking around, my eyes searching. His eyes followed scouting the area, and both of us double checked that Tasha was still with other children.

“Nothing,” I muttered, although I felt goosebumps on my skin. I rubbed my arms, willing them to stop. I couldn’t see anyone and didn’t want to sound crazy or paranoid.

After years of Malcome’s men constantly on my tracks, I was overly sensitive. Or I couldn’t believe I got off so easily and was scared he’d still somehow find me and lock me up in his cruel, evil world where he could torture me as he saw fit.

The preview he gave me was brutal enough. And the promises he made me were of ultimate pain and suffering for only his pleasure. A shudder ran down my body and I wrapped my arms around myself. I never wanted to feel Malcome’s hands on me again. He shouldn’t be allowed around anyone. If he got to do the things he promised, I’d break. I knew I wouldn’t survive it mentally and eventually my body would follow.

“You okay?” Andrey asked, and I quickly blinked my eyes to focus on the now, this unexpected freedom and safety I had.

“Yes, yes,” I hurriedly assured him. “It was nothing.”

We spent the next hour at the playground before telling Tasha it was time to go. On our way back home, we stopped to grab lunch. Andrey recommended a little stand at the corner of the street on our way.

“It doesn’t look like much but it has good food,” Andrey assured me when he saw me eye it suspiciously.

“Okay,” I answered him. “You have no idea how much I’m trusting you right now. Don’t fail us.”

He laughed, and it really made him handsome. His green eyes lit up in delight. “It will be worth it.”

The man greeted Andrey in Russian, and after a few back and forths, he got to cooking something for us.

“Tasha,” I joked around, “make sure you tell me if he ordered something funny. Okay?”

She giggled. “Don’t worry. It is good.”

Once the food was ready, I had to admit it smelled delicious.

“Beef?” I asked and Andrey shook his head in agreement.

I bit into it and my eyes went wide. He was right. It was very good.

“Ummm, really good.” My mouth was full of food and as a rule of thumb I never spoke with my mouth full but whatever this was, it was melting in my mouth and enough to warrant violation of etiquette.

As soon as I swallowed. “This is very, very good.” I told Andrey. “He is such a good cook. What is this?”

Andrey translated and they both smiled at my enthusiasm. “It is called pirozhki.”

“Yummy.” I took another bite and I savored it slowly. Tasha and I locked eyes, smiling. She liked this too although clearly it wasn’t her first time eating it. “Please tell him it is divine. He’s an excellent cook.”

Andrey immediately translated and the old man beamed with a wide smile on his face. I wished I could learn the recipe so I could fix it at home too.

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